Whoever is alone will stay alone,
will sit, read, write long letters through the evening,
and wander along the boulevards, up and down,
restlessly, while the dry leaves are blowing.
will sit, read, write long letters through the evening,
and wander along the boulevards, up and down,
restlessly, while the dry leaves are blowing.
Rainer Maria Rilke, from “Autumn Day,” trans. Stephen Mitchell (via enchantedhorse)
I do not miss these lonely days one bit, the soul when neglected for too long, becomes tortured by want for human interaction, companionship, and community.
(Source: proustitute)
